


Paint it Black

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Artist Keith (Voltron), Bob Ross - Freeform, Cuddle Pile, M/M, The Art of Painting is a powerful sedative, Use at your own risk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9643499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: The team accidentally discovers that the Art of Painting will almost immediately knock out everyone except Keith.Keith takes advantage of the peace to do one of his favorite things: Draw.  More specifically, drawing Shiro.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written based on a series of jokes with Butteredonions.
> 
> Considering the basic premise started with 'Bob Ross is a weapons grade sedative', this fic should maybe not be taken very seriously.

It was Pidge’s plan that started it all.

Like most of Pidge’s plans, it was clever, outside the box, and involved technology.

Mostly of them had problems sleeping.  Considering they were the front line in a 10,000 year old war, that probably wasn’t very surprising.  They’d all seen and experienced more than their years than they had the right to, and that made itself known at night.  

Some of them were worse than others.  Keith slept alright, comparatively, since everything about being Galra had been aired and dealt with.  Pidge, on the other hand, treated sleep like it was a bother than she had to be forced into, and she was back up as soon as she got the minimum to function without significant issue.

Some were worse than that, but they weren’t supposed to know that.

Keith did anyway.  Everyone did.  Because Shiro was not  _ nearly _ as subtle as he thought he was.

It was a decent act.  It fooled just about every alien they ran into, for one, and there were days even Keith couldn’t tell if Shiro’s laser focus was a product of necessity or of faking his way through exhaustion.

Even when Shiro could push through it - when any of them could - it wasn’t  _ good _ for them either.  But it wasn’t like they could just declare it nap time and expect everyone to nod off.

(They knew that because Lance had tried, and Pidge had turned her music up to block him out.  Shiro had ruffled his hair then went off to work with Allura, and it wasn’t like Keith was going to be the first one to bow to Lance’s supposed authority.  With only Hunk on his side, Lance had given it up as a bad job.)

Pidge had been the one to come up with the solution.  But the first time, it was an accident.

“Hey,” she called, sitting up straighter on the couch.  “I forgot I had these.”

Hunk’s brows rose.  “Should I be worried that you’ve downloaded so much that you forgot some?”

Pidge eyed him, lips quirking up.  “The Garrison had good download speeds.  I took advantage.  Enough VPNs and back doors and you can do anything you need to.  So there’s a lot.  I hope you’re not complaining.”

Holding up his hands, Hunk shook his head. “Nope, not when it’s the only thing we’ve got.”

“So what is it?” Lance asked, craning past Hunk to see.  Reflexively, Pidge jerked her laptop away from him, and he pouted.  “C’mon, you can’t say that and then not share.”

“It’s old Bob Ross episodes,” Pidge replied, still using her hand to try and cover the monitor. “I used to put them on as background noise when I was programming, so they were in a weird folder.  Totally forgot about them.”

Keith paused, sitting up straighter.  “Bob Ross?”

Nodding, Hunk turned to face Keith.  “He was this painter that used to be- wait.  You know him?”

It was said with such astonishment that Keith stiffened.  “Yeah?  They used to play reruns on PBS all the time.”

“That actually makes sense,” Lance muttered back.  Then he nudged Pidge.  “Put it on, then.  We’ve got to celebrate that you’ve got something Keith’s actually seen.”

Keith scowled back.  “It’s not my fault most of the stuff on there is from centuries ago.”

“He’s got a point,” Hunk put in, and he only shrugged at Lance’s pout.  “Sorry, dude, but Pidge’s tastes are pretty old school.”

“She grew up with it,” Shiro offered, making them all start and look over at the door.  He offered an apologetic grin in response.  “Sorry, talking with the Princess took longer than I thought.  You decided on something yet?”

“Bob Ross,” Keith replied.  Then he paused.  “I think?  Pidge never agreed.”

Pidge shrugged.  “I’m fine with it.”  She started to jostle over to give Shiro room on the couch between her and Hunk, but instead Shiro crashed down on the loveseat with Keith, hard enough it made him jolt on the cushions.  “Ah, nevermind.  Yeah, Bob Ross.  Art of Painting.  We’re an exciting bunch.”

Shiro smiled back, slightly thin.  “I think we get a pass, considering what we do most days.”

“Hear hear,” Hunk added, flopping back on the couch.  “Something relaxed to watch sounds good today.”

Shrugging, Pidge started up the episode and turned down the lights.

By the time it was over, Lance, Hunk and Shiro were all out cold, and Pidge was only barely hanging on.

“Forgot about that,” Pidge muttered, slurred with sleep.  “S’like a sedative.”

Keith shrugged using his left shoulder.  His right was occupied by Shiro’s head, and Keith wouldn’t disturb him for his life.  “I’m immune.”

Giving him a beady look, Pidge squinted.  “How?”

“I watched a lot of them.”  Keith murmured back.  He hesitated, slightly self-conscious, but it was just Pidge.  She wouldn’t make a fuss over it.  “And I painted during them, sometimes.  That helps.”

Pidge yawned.  “Oh.  Hmm, s’good, though.  Got everyone out.  You okay there?”

Glancing down, Keith took in the loose, relaxed lines of Shiro.  The pleasant warmth and weight of him against his side, the trust implicit in the gesture.  And, beyond Pidge’s sight, the way Shiro’s left arm was curled around Keith’s back, holding on for unconscious balance.

He didn’t mind that arm at all.  Even if Shiro didn’t mean it that way.

“I’m good here for a while,” he answered, voice soft.

Luckily, if Pidge noticed at all, she must have assumed it was to avoid waking anyone.  She just nodded and nuzzled against Hunk’s side, and in a few moments she was breathing deeply.

Keith spent another few moments just watching.  Shiro’s hand rested against his thigh, curled slightly in relaxation.  The way his fingers splayed, and Keith wished he had a pad and a pen to try and copy it.

Hmm.  Maybe some other time.

***

After that, Bob Ross’ powers were deployed purposefully.

“Nope,” Pidge declared, practically bristling in her seat.  “No way, I am not listening to you two bicker another minute.  Everyone’s strung out, you’re cranky, I get it.  Sit your asses down.”

Lance scowled back at her, clearly still spoiling for a fight.  Keith could relate, after Lance had spent the past half an hour poking furiously at ever button Keith had.  Which was many, and he’d had been properly riled after the first couple of comments.  Damn him.

“Seconded,” Shiro called, voice the low, flat tone he used for commands.  That drew Keith over, and he sat down heavily on the loveseat next to Shiro.  Mostly, it was because he knew Lance would take his usual seat on the couch, and there was no way he was sitting on the same piece of furniture with him right now.

Rubbing his temples, Hunk let out a sigh of relief as Lance sat down as well, arms crossed.  “Finally.”

Pulling over her laptop, Pidge turned off the lights.  “If no one can play nice then I’m putting on Bob Ross and it can be goddamn nap time, you toddlers.”

That made Shiro sit up, and he frowned.  “Pidge, I don’t think we have time for-”

_ “Did I stutter?” _

The snarl - at Shiro especially - was so unexpected that Shiro reared back and frowned.  “No?”

Pidge drew her lips back.  “Good.  We don’t have anything else this afternoon.  Everyone is strung out from yesterday’s mission.   _ It’s nap time.” _

Amused, Keith took a moment to imagine Pidge as the Black Paladin.

It was be pretty glorious, honestly.  Terrifying, but glorious.

From Shiro’s considering look, he might have been thinking the same thing.

The familiar tune of the theme song began to play, and this time Keith only barely paid attention.  He’d seen every episode at least a few times, so it wasn’t like he was missing anything.

This time, he watched.

Pidge put aside her laptop immediately, this time, rather than stubbornly clinging to awareness.  Once it was on the table, she dug out blanket out of the storage under the table, curled up in a tiny ball against the armrest, and dragged  it over her head.  After, she didn’t move, and Keith could only assume she’d fallen asleep.

Useful skill.

On the other side of the couch, Lance was still scowling, his eyes bright in the gloom of the room.  But Hunk wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him against his bulk.  Within a minute Lance huffed and relaxed, tilting his head up to murmur together as they both relaxed.

Also useful, but a skill Keith was less likely to learn.  That one was probably innately Hunk.

Then, he focused on Shiro.

He was sitting up, back straight like he was bracing himself to get through torture.

“You okay?” Keith asked, but it was more dry than concerned.  He had a feeling he knew what Shiro’s objections were.

Lips thinning, Shiro nodded.  “Fine.  But I shouldn’t sleep.  I have too much to do.”

Keith’s brows jumped up.  Yup, there it was.  He reached over to the table, picking up the blank pad and pen he’d left there the other day, just in case.  Looks like he’d need it.  “Like what?”

“Training, going over yesterday’s mission data, planning training for the week, going over the data on the _ Raiths _ that Allura and Coran want to visit soon.”  As Shiro listed off each, he held up a finger, meeting Keith’s eyes challengingly.

Brows not moving an inch, Keith tilted his head.  “And which of those can’t be done tomorrow?”

Shiro stared back, expression stony.

“If you’re not comfortable sleeping here, you can go,” Keith told him.  “But you were fine last time, and if there’s a problem I can handle you long enough for you to wake up.  Trust me.”

Something in Shiro almost seemed to snap, from the speed his shoulders drooped.  “I do trust you,” he murmured back.  “It’s not that.  It’s that... you’re right.  It can wait an hour.”

Offering him a small smile, one that only lasted long enough for Shiro to spot it, Keith tilted his shoulder back in offer.

It had been okay last time, and Shiro had slept pretty comfortably like that.

And maybe Keith just wanted that warmth back.

Shiro considered, then turned around completely, so his back was to Keith’s side and his legs were flopped over the armrest.  It was the kind of relaxed posture he wasn’t used to seeing from Shiro anymore, the kind that spoke to his age rather than his position.  “This okay?”

“Perfect,” Keith replied, because it let him draw without disturbing Shiro.

With a hum, Shiro relaxed against him.  In took a few minutes, longer than anyone else, but soon his breathing evened out too.

Glancing over, Keith considered.

Then he started to sketch.

***

“Not bad, Mullet.”

The address made Keith’s teeth grind.  At least Lance sounded like he was being sincere.  His first reaction was to hide the pad against his chest.  But if he did that, it would only egg Lance on and prove it was something he cared about.

“Keep it down,” Keith muttered instead, glancing over his shoulder to glare at Lance.  He was draped over the back of the loveseat, still looking down with open interest.

Nodding to show his understanding, Lance ducked his head and continued on at a whisper.  “It’s pretty good.  How’d you do that?”

What kind of question was that?  “I put the pen on the paper, and then I moved it,” Keith shot back flatly.

Lance rolled his eyes.  “No, I mean, did you take lessons?”  When Keith only stared back, Lance frowned.  “You learned that alone?”

“Mostly.  And watching stuff like Bob Ross.  I don’t paint much, ‘cause it’s harder to get those, but pens are easy to find.”  Keith stared back.  “Why?”

“Because I’m impressed and I’m trying to compliment you,” Lance replied back, just as blunt.  “Forget it, I’m never being nice to you again.  Speaking of, does Shiro know about this?”

Keith blushed, which was a stupid, awful reaction.  He wasn’t doing anything wrong in drawing Shiro.  “Know what?  I was occupying myself.”

“Sure,” Lance replied, drawing out the word.  The noise was enough to make Shiro stir, and Keith nearly threw the pad at Lance.  Damn him.  Shiro needed the rest, and Lance’s need to poke fun at everything was running that.

Luckily, that wasn’t necessary, because Shiro just turned his head so his cheek was pressed against Keith’s bicep, and his hand drifted over to settle on Keith’s hip.

That didn’t make the blush go away, though.

“I wonder if Pidge has Titanic on that laptop,” Lance mused, once Shiro was back to breathing softly.  “You could pick up a tip or two.”

Whatever the hell that meant, Keith wasn’t interested.

“If you’re not going to be quiet, you should go.”

Lance rolled his eyes.  “Fine, whatever.  But you should tell him, you know.”

Freezing, Keith just glared.  “Tell him-?” Lance’s expression was far too knowing, though, and his voice cut off.  Shamed into honest, he looked away.  “That ship sailed.”

“So get a robot lion instead.”  Lance grinned at his own joke, unbothered by Keith’s flat stare.  “Alright, alright, I’ll go.  But you should anyway.”  Without waiting for a response, Lance scampered off, and even from a distance Keith could tell he was grinning to himself.

The hell did he know, anyway?  Why would Keith ruin the most important relationship in his life?

Keith needed something that would last between them.  Needed a bond that meant ‘forever’ not ‘until I open my stupid mouth and you realize you don’t want to stay.’

Someone like Lance couldn’t get that, but Shiro did.  And Keith wasn’t about to ruin that for someone’s stupid ideas of romance.

That in mind, Keith went back to carefully sketching out Shiro’s sleeping profile.

***

Then, the plan changed.

Keith wasn’t sure how he felt about it.  On one hand, he liked those quiet moments, and he appreciated anything that got Shiro more sleep.

On the other hand,  _ there was paint. _

“Coran showed me what they had,” Hunk told them.  “It seemed basically like acrylic.  I had to mess with it a bit to get the right consistency, because their version is really thick.  But I think I got the colors right?”

Frowning, Keith eyed the selection more thoughtfully, and realized that they were specifically chosen.  They matched what Bob Ross always used in each episode.

Oooh.

“Do we have-” Keith was cut off when Lance held up a stack of canvases, beaming.  “Oh.  Alright then.”  He took one of the offered brushes and some of the paint, swirling it together on a tray that served as a pallate.  It mixed nicely.  “These will work.  Nice job, Hunk.”

Hunk beamed back.  “Thanks!  I thought it’d be fun.  Pidge said that you said that you stay awake because you painted to it, and it’d be nice if we actually got to see the finished project for once.”

“You could just skip to the end,” Shiro submitted mildly.

Lance gasped at him.  “That would be  _ cheating.” _

Raising her hand, Pidge’s brows rose.  “I have no problem with cheating.”  That earned her flat looks from both Lance and Shiro, which she brushed off.  “But painting sounds fun anyway.  It’s worth a try, and you’re supposed to be able to follow along, right?”

“He goes a little fast, but yeah, you should be.”  Keith started to carefully lay out his tray.  “Want me to get yours, Shiro?”

“Can we share?  They’re big trays, seems like a lot of the little seat.”

Considering, Keith nodded and started to add more paint.  Then he paused and glanced over, suddenly supicious.  “Are you going to paint?”

Shiro smiled and shrugged.  “I wasn’t planning on it.  I’d have to use this hand.”  He held up the Galra one.  “I’m not sure how well it’d work.  Besides, I don’t think I could stay awake anyway.  All the less chance of falling into paint.”

Whining, Lance glanced over.  “But that’d be so fun.  We could position the paint so when you fell in you’d come out with Voltron face.”

“Let’s not do that.  Not least of which because drowning in paint isn’t in my top ten ways to die.”

Hunk frowned.  “You have a ranking?”

Sighing, Keith stood and brought over the supplies.  “You’re sure?  It’d be a good way of testing your dexterity.”  

Shiro nodded and shrugged.  “I’m not much of a painter anyway.  You’re the artist.”

“You knew?”  Lance’s eyes were far too sharp for Keith’s comfort.

Tilting his head, Shiro gave a slow nod.  “Yeah, Keith used to draw during tutoring all the time.”

Lance looked like he was going to continue, but Pidge pulled over her laptop to start the episode.  “Okay, what do we want to paint?”

After a round of good natured bickering, they finally selected an episode, and Keith relaxed back with the canvas propped against his legs.  It wasn’t ideal, but for lack of an easel, he’d manage.  And he got to use paints, which would have been nice even on Earth, much less in the Castle of Lions.

But he wasn’t interested in anything Bob Ross wanted him to paint.

Instead, Keith put down a rough sketch in pencil, then started on something completely different, but something he could still watch.

At this point, Keith was pushing it, but he was pretty sure he could spin it that Shiro was just a still subject.  Which was true.  

The colors weren’t right for human coloring, so this would be more impressionistic, looser than he might have chosen otherwise.  But it was fun, to cast Shiro in dark shadows, deep purples accenting the line of his jaw and his thick brows, highlights of reds and pinks on his lips and scar.  Pale blues with deeper shadows gave the impression of the couch he was pressed again, nearly pure black showing where Shiro’s eyelashes fanned both the fabric and his pale cheeks.  

Because he wasn’t worried too much about photo realism - these brushes weren’t going to let him do anything too detailed - Keith got to just enjoy.

He also got to stare.  Which was how he noticed Shiro’s bangs were caught against the couch, curling in a way that pressed the tips back to his eyelids.  That could get uncomfortable if left, and it was bothering him in an aesthetic way.  He looked so peaceful otherwise, so it couldn’t be a problem if he just-

Keith reached out and brushed his bangs away, letting the strands curl against his forehead instead.

Where his fingers had been, there were streaks of red.

Oh shit.  

Keith snatched his hand back, curling it against his chest like a child caught reaching for a cookie.  Maybe Shiro wouldn’t notice?  He probably wouldn’t see until that evening, and if he took a shower without glancing in a mirror he might not ever know.

Except there was a snicker across the room, and there was no way Shiro wasn’t going to notice if Lance was laughing at him.

Turning, Keith shot Lance a glare, and only got an encouraging eyebrow waggle in return.

Damn him.

Well,  Shiro was still asleep, and there was nothing he could do about it, so Keith picked the canvas back up and bent over it.  Maybe if he just ignored it all really hard, Lance would get bored and shut up about it.

Except he could already hear Hunk’s curious mumblings and Pidge’s dry answer, and suddenly Keith suspected he’d been set up.

Damn all three of them.

Eventually, mercifully, Keith lost himself in the drawing again, and he could at least focus on something he could make work.

Until there was a rustling behind him, and a hand rested on his shoulder.  “Mm.  Harder to sleep with the noise.  The episode over?”  Keith turned back just as Shiro’s eyes fell on Keith’s canvas, and his brows jumped up.  “Woah.”

“Wasn’t in the mood for landscapes,” Keith replied carefully.  “You were there.”

Before Shiro could respond, Lance spoke up.  “Hey, Shiro, you’ve got something-” he gestured toward his bangs, lips pulled up.

Keith resisted the urge to throw the canvas at Lance’s stupid smug face.

Reaching up, Shiro ran his fingers through his bangs, frowning when they came away wet.  Looking down, he saw the red paint.

And the red paint on Keith’s hands.

He was literally caught  _ red-handed. _  What a load of shit.

“So, this was fun,” Hunk said, standing suddenly.  “Lots of painting.  Stayed awake.  Great afternoon.  Time to go!”

“Hunk!” Lance whined, as Hunk physically wound an arm under his stomach and heaved him up.  He dropped his canvas, which only landed paint side up through sheer luck.  Pidge stepped carefully around it as she followed them both, and Lance shot them a pair of finger guns as he was lifted away.

“I have several questions,” Shiro finally said, thankfully amused.

Keith glanced back at him, expression flat as he could manage.  “It’s those three.  There’s always questions.  Who can understand them?”

Laughing, Shiro nudged their shoulders together.  “Be nice.”  But then his eyes fell on the painting, and his gaze softened.  “That’s how you see me?”

“That’s how you are,” Keith replied immediately.  “I was just painting what you looked like.”

Shiro’s lips quirked up.  “Last I checked I wasn’t purple.  Though, I thought I wasn’t red, either, and I got proved wrong.”  He settled against Keith’s side, glancing at him.  “I admit I’m a little confused.  Mixed signals.  Lance seems to think something very different from the impression I had.”

Grinding his teeth, Keith looked away.  “Lance doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Tilting his head, Shiro nodded.  “Okay.  Fair enough.”  He stood, stretching until his back cracked.  “I need to stop sleeping bent over in chairs.”

Keith stared at him.  “That’s it?”

“What’s it?  You said Lance was wrong.  I trust you to know your own feelings.  Hell, I just trust you.”  Shiro shrugged.  “You expected me to push?  You’ve made yourself clear.”

That was...

Not the reaction of someone upset at Keith’s feelings.

Just the opposite, really.

Keith’s mouth went dry.  “Shiro.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken up.  You said before.”  Shiro shook his head, looking away.  “I’m just going to clean up, and then you can finish.”

Okay, no, screw this.  Keith stood, shoving aside the canvas, and reached up to cup Shiro’s cheek.  He froze, eyes wide and startled, but he stayed still as Keith ran his still paint-smeared thumb over his bottom lip.

Finally, Shiro took a deep breath.  “I’m confused again.”

“Me too,” Keith replied.  “But I’m going to go with it.”  And he leaned up and kissed Shiro.

It tasted like paint.  He really hadn’t thought that through.

But he shivered anyway, especially when Shiro’s hands rested on his hips, holding on, and he opened his mouth to Keith’s pressing tongue.

Then he pulled back.  “Okay, I don’t know if that stuff is safe for consumption.  Probably shouldn’t do that.  And someone really needs to clean up.”  Shiro glanced at Keith, eyes warm and hopeful.  “But maybe then we can talk?”

“I’d prefer more kissing, actually,” Keith replied, still fascinated by the smear of redish-purple on Shiro’s mouth.

Shiro grinned, and the color moved with his lips.  “We can do both,” he promised.

That’d do.  “Good.  Can I draw you?  When you’re awake, this time.”

Shiro seemed surprised by the question, but he nodded.  “Sure.  If you’d like to.”

“I would.”

Paint or no, no matter what colors he appeared in, Shiro was a work of art.

And Keith was an artist, though not everyone looked at him and thought that.  He was drawn to Shiro.

Maybe, when he could put the Shiro in his head on paper, Shiro would be able to understand how he really was.

Or not.  Art couldn’t fix all problems, or even most.  Not these kinds.  And that wasn’t the goal.

Art was just what made life worth living.


End file.
